


Fitzskimmons Drabbles Collections

by Florchis



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Banter, Caretaking, Cuddling, Daisy Johnson Appreciation, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, F/M, FitzSkimmons - Freeform, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Food Fight, Hurt/Comfort, Kid Fic, Long Live Feedback Comment Project, Mentions of canon Static Quake, Multi, Panic Attacks, Parenthood, S5 AU, Season/Series 04, Triad - Freeform, poly positive
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-04
Updated: 2018-12-09
Packaged: 2019-01-09 00:39:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 11,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12265365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Florchis/pseuds/Florchis
Summary: A collection of all my Fitzskimmons short stories. Rating varies according to the last chapter posted. The title of each chapter contains its rating.10: Domestic Fluff





	1. Carnival Meet-Cute (G)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From a tumblr prompt: any combination of FitzSkimmons going to a carnival

“Fitz. Fitz! Look on your three.” Maybe she should have considered that her boyfriend is too engrossed on dragging her to the monkey stand to pay her any real attention, so she sinks the heels of her shoes on the ground until he can’t move her anymore and has no other alternative than to look back at her with a grimace between a glare and a pout. “Scout’s honour that I will win you a stuffed monkey as big as you want and then some if you just give me two minutes to admire the only creature on this earth who can make eating cotton candy look like a graceful activity.”

Of course, that catches his attention, and both of them turn to look at their right; luckily, the girl on the green sundress, who is picking carefully at a pink cotton candy is still there, seemingly alone and smiling around like her only mission on this life is to make the world not seem as such a shitty place, and well, Daisy would call it a success. The sun catches on her hair when she looks around curiously, giving it golden highlights, and Daisy fakes an exaggerated sigh, and it’s then that she realizes that Fitz is uncharacteristically quiet. She turns to look at him, half-ready to give in and take him to the monkey stand, when she discovers that he has blushed beet-red, and he is biting his lower lip in a shameful expression.

“Um, actually, I know her. We have a class together.” 

Daisy gasps, feigning outrage, and tugs on his hand until she gets him moving towards the girl.

“And you were planning on keeping her all to yourself? I thought you _ loved  _ me, Leopold.”

Fitz starts spluttering, but he can not form an entire, coherent sentence before they are in front of the girl and Daisy is offering her free hand.

“Hi! I think you might know Fitzopold here?”

“Oh, Fitz! Hi! I’m Jemma, nice to meet you.”

Oh. She is _english._ _Oh._ So this might be the amazing _amazing_ girl who is on his Advanced Quantum Mechanics Class and that can put him to shame on almost every topic without breaking a sweat, a.k.a. the girl that Fitz has been gushing about non-stop for the last two days and a half. Only that he has been so immersed on praising her brain that he has forgotten to mention how pretty she is. Classic Fitz.   

“Daisy.” They shake hands, and her hand, rougher than it seems and with long, nice fingers, triggers a wave of warmth up Daisy’s arm. She elbows Fitz slightly just to shake the sensation. “You should forgive him for forgetting his manners, he can not think straight when there is the prospect of stuffed monkeys around. Or any kind of monkey, really.”   

Jemma smiles, and they are on the edge of a risky situation, this has the potential to be terrible and godawful and heartrending, because Fitz is already half in love with her, and after only one smile Daisy is positively smitten with her. 

This is _ wonderful. _

“Did you say monkeys?” And Jemma offers her half-eaten cotton candy to Fitz, who takes a big chunk and smiles at her. God, she knows how Fitz _ works  _ already. “Do you think there might be another kind of stuffed animals too?” 

“Oh, sure.” Daisy starts walking, still clutching Fitz’s hand on hers, but slow enough that Jemma can understand that she is being invited to walk with them. Her hand is sweating a little out of nerves  _ (nerves?!?) _ , and Fitz squeezes it reassuringly. “What would you like?”

“A snake. Or, or, I don’t know, any other animal that a sane person would consider disgusting? She probably wants one of those.”  

She is about to elbow Fitz on the ribs, what does he think he is doing judging this girl on her choice of stuffed animals, but Jemma rolls her eyes good-naturedly and snickers at him. 

“Excuse me for being a well-rounded person who enjoys things besides bolts and biscuits!”

Daisy can’t hold back a snort, and Fitz looks at her with betrayal on his eyes, while Jemma pumps in the air the hand that is not holding the cotton candy.

_ “Unbelievable. _ You have known each other for _ three minutes  _ and you are already ganging up on me.”

Daisy winks at him before blowing him a kiss.

“Imagine what we will be doing in three hours!”

Jemma stops on her tracks, gives Fitz her cotton candy ceremoniously and intertwines Daisy’s arm with hers.

“Cheer yourself up with that, Fitz. I have found a new best friend.”

Fitz groans while Daisy and Jemma smile at each other, but his thumb is rubbing happy tight circles on the back of her hand, and really, Daisy can only close her eyes and let the sun kiss her face to keep herself from squishing them both into a hug.    


	2. Matching sweaters + Fitz's childhod bedroom (T)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fitz shows Daisy around his childhood bedroom while Jemma makes an escape from Fitz's prying family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From a tumblr prompt by @theclaravoyant: fitzskimmons + matching sweaters + (fitz's?) childhood bedroom (or skye's van?)

For other take at Fitzskimmons sharing Fitz's childhood bed + Mama Fitz making them all matching sweaters, [check out this other story!](http://archiveofourown.org/works/11643624)

* * *

Daisy sits down on his old bed, and bounces a little up and down, testing the springs on the mattress, and Fitz can only smile at her enthusiasm. Daisy smiles back at him while she pets the quilt with both hands, feeling the texture, and looks at the walls, eyes drinking up every detail. For him, the room is pretty standard and uninteresting, but he still sits down next to her and lets her explore to her heart’s content.

“So.” She turns towards him and their knees brush. “Now is when you tell me _everything_ about all the girls you snuck up here to make out. Or boys. I’m not picky.”

Fitz snorts.

“Daisy, it’s like you don’t know me at all. Lonely, achingly shy, left home at fourteen? Not much material for making out with people.”

There is mischief in her eyes, and Fitz’s heart thumps inside his chest.

“Maybe it’s time we change that.” She leans over and kisses him, hard, without giving him much notice and much time to prepare. When she breaks apart, she leaves him panting. “How does that feel, stallion?”

He would like to roll his eyes at the mocking nickname, but with her tongue lavishing up his neck, he can only moan. Of course, that is the moment Simmons chooses to open the door, and they both jump like two kids caught with their hands inside the cookie jar. Or their tongues inside each other’s mouths.

“Oh, I see you started the homecoming celebration without me.” Her voice is sinuous and enticing, and Fitz is glad when she sits on Daisy’s lap instead of his, because he wouldn’t like to, well, to _poke_ her too much.

Daisy embraces Jemma’s waist with her arms and places her chin on the space between Jemma’s shoulder and neck.

“Sorry it took me so long, your aunt Marjory wouldn’t let me go, Fitz. Always going on and on about when are we going to 'finally get hiched' and whatnot. Was this close to tell her about Daisy just to get her to shut up.”

He notices that Jemma squeezes Daisy’s arm just a precaution in case she recoils from the comment; Fitz thinks they are all past that stage, but being over cautious never hurt anybody, and he checks Daisy’s face carefully just to be sure. Her mouth is hidden by Jemma’s shoulder, but her eyes still look comfortable and calm.

“Imagine what they will say when they see us all with matching sweaters tomorrow.”

He exchanges a look with Simmons, and then they both turn towards Daisy.

“Aw, you will wear it tomorrow?”

“Daisy, you don’t have to-”

“- that will teach them not to meddle-”

“- I know you put it on out of consideration for my mom-”

“- tired of their heteromononormative assumptions-”

“- it scratches and it is embarrasing-”

“- too much if I kissed you-?”

“Okay, stop, stop fitzsimmoning all over me, please.” Fitz inhales and exchanges another look with Simmons, this one a little guilty. He can’t help being a little fond of the nickname, though; he hated it at the Academy, when it was used by people sometimes twice their age to try to force him and Simmons, together, but Daisy uses it with completely different connotations, as something precious she holds dearly close to her heart, and it is sweet when her lips are the ones forming it. “Simmons, calm down, not everything has to be a crusade for your ideals. Take it easy and I will make out with you to scandalize one of Fitz’s aunts of your choice, but only one." Simmons pouts but doesn't say anything else, and daisy turns towards him. "Fitz, you gotta be kidding me, you know I don’t have a history of having too much stuff, especially not stuff made by someone who cares about me. I love it and will love it for fucking ever and you will have to rip it from my arms in my deathbed.”

He blushes; she is so laid back that sometimes it’s easy to forget that Daisy didn’t grow up with a loving family around; his father might be a wanker, and his childhood might have been lacking a little (or a lot) in material things, but he always had the unwavering certainty of his mother love and support. Simmons takes him out of his wallowing misery by rubbing the deep-red shoulder of Daisy’s sweater and humming softly.

“There are worse things to take to a deathbed, honestly. I like the color. It really suits you.”

“Right? That woman is a _genius._ I know now from which side of the family Fitz got his brain.” Daisy beams at Jemma, and Fitz tries to put to good use the advice they always tell each other: _if I don’t blame you for something, you don’t have to blame yourself._ It’s hard, but he tries; he doesn't want them to blame themselves for things that can not be changed, and it's only fair that he does hsi share; they are all together in this constant lesson of forgiveness and mental peace. “I really like yours too.”

Jemma looks down at her own forest-green sweater and then at Fitz’s sea-blue one, a soft smile on her lips. They all have elbows patches- his are red and green; Daisy's blue and green; Jemma's blue and red-, and really, who told his mum that this was a good idea, they all look almost comical, but if it pleases the three women that are the absolute pillars of his life, he will wear his to his deathbed too. 

“You know what we should do, Daisy?” Jemma says _Daisy_ but is looking intently at him; she knows exactly what he is thinking, and Fitz shivers. “We should ask Mary to show us _all_ of Fitz’s baby pictures.”

Both the girls giggle, actually giggle, and they both look so happy that Fitz can not even find it within himself to groan.

“You will have time to be accomplices with my mum in scarring me for life. But later.” He tugs a little on Jemma’s hand until she gets off Daisy’s lap and instead sits down between the two of them. Then, he drops himself to the floor on his knees, takes one hand of each of them and kisses first one and then the other. Jemma shivers, and Fitz realizes that Daisy slipped her free hand on Jemma’s back, under her sweater and probably under her blouse too. He smirks. “But first, I have to take advantage of this while I can. As Daisy said, this bed needs to gain some experience, and when will I get another chance to have two gorgeous women on it?”

Daisy smirks back at him, and by the way Jemma is twisting her upper body, she might be doing wicked things to Jemma’s back. _Good._

“Let’s just hope that very soon and very often.” Daisy moves her head a little to the side, and Fitz gets the message and slips his own hands over Jemma’s belly and up until the strip of her bra. He tugs gently on it, and it gives easily- Daisy must have already unhooked it- so he slips his hands under it too. A protest seems to be forming on Jemma’s lips, but it’s killed off on an early stage by a moan.

“Let’s.”          

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear to god I try to write them as all fluffy and cuddly, and then, as soon as I barely avert my eyes, Fitz and Daisy take off Jemma's bra. These children.


	3. FSK as parents (T)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anthony had a rough day at school and his parents begin the discussion of how to deal with this kind of issue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From a tumblr prompt: "Prompt where Fitzskimmons kid has a bad day and ot3 cheer them up?? Lots of fluff and banter if you can pls" Sorry this is a little more angst than fluff and a little more hurt/comfort than banter, but I try?

When Daisy sends him a _ CODE RED, COME AS SOON AS YOU CAN  _ message- just like that, in all caps- to their personal chat instead of using the group one, Fitz can only think about all the bad things, the worse things and the worst thing that could have happened.

He rushes in his way back home, worry etching itself onto his skin, and he even climbs the stairs two steps at a time, too anxious to wait around for the lift. When he opens the door and finds Daisy pacing their living room back and forth, a part of his heart breathes relieved; one safe, two to go.

“Daisy, what’s going on?”

“Oh, I’m glad you are home.” She doesn’t look injured or ill, but very very tired, worry lines forming on the side of her eyes. He gets near her and gives her a brief hug, relishing on the smell of her shampoo and her home clothes to calm him down. “Tony had a bad day at school and I can not at the same time comfort him and prevent Jemma from murdering someone.”

Only then, Fitz exhales until he completely empties his lungs. It’s not ideal, but all things considered, it could have been a lot worse. He can handle this.

“Okay, tell me more.”

Daisy opens the fridge to get a beer for each of them, and they don’t normally drink with the kid in the house, but if Daisy’s bitter face is any indication, they might need a little bit of relaxation before facing this. After they have taken a gulp each, she shrugs.

“The same old story, you know. We might be moving forward as a society, but that doesn’t mean that change is uniform and constant. And having a dad and two moms is not yet that well received by some people. Children can be mean with anyone who is different, we all have experienced that, and, well, Tony _ is  _ your child; he is sensitive.”

Fitz sighs; he doesn’t regret their decision to register Anthony as the child of the three of them, it was a precaution to make things easier in case something happened to one of them- and in their line of work, they couldn’t have not taken that into consideration- but alsoa statement about their system of beliefs. It certainly would have made a lot of things smoother to have him registered as his and Daisy’s child, like Jemma suggested in the middle of an anxiety attack a couple days before he was born, but they are not in this life for things to be smooth and easy, are they? 

People are assholes and would have found out about it anyway.

“And let me guess: Jemma wants to go there and rip apart the throats of all the school staff that didn't intervene, and probably also the ones that belong to the parents who raised the children that way, am I wrong?”

“You know you are not.”

Daisy smiles, and Fitz can only mimic her; even when impractical, they are both very fond of Jemma’s extensive protective streak. 

“Okay, let’s fix this, shall we?”

* * *

Things are calmer than he expected when they go inside Anthony’s bedroom, both him and Jemma sitting on his bed, looking at an enormous book on his lap and talking in whispers. They both greet Fitz with watery eyes when he kisses Jemma’s cheek and ruffles the mop of curls at the top of Anthony’s head.

“Hey, monkey, can I steal your mom for a second?”

He nods, and automatically runs toward Daisy, who lifts him in the air with airplanes noises, earning a giggle out of him even through the tears. Fitz smiles at them and takes Jemma’s hand to guide her towards their bedroom. Jemma goes willingly but once inside looks at him with hard eyes.

“Jem-

“- I know what you are going to say-”

“-take it easy and think-”

“-don’t know me at all if you think-”

“- we don’t want to do something we regret-”

“- I couldn't live with myself knowing that our son-”

“- it can only hurt ourselves-”

“-if we don’t do something -”

“Okay, okay, time out.” He places his hands on her shoulders and both of them breathe in and out until they are somewhat synchronized. “Let’s start again. We love each other and we both want the best for our son, and the same goes about Daisy. That’s our starting point and will always be. Let’s go from there, okay?”

Jemma sighs and averts her eyes.

“I was doing a great show of not looking upset, both for him and for you.”

“I know, and I appreciate it. But I _know_ you, Jemma. And so does Daisy.”

“How can you expect me to sit back and do nothing when our son is hurting, Fitz?” It’s not a reproach, not exactly, but Fitz feels guilty all the same; that is not what he is asking of her at all.

“That is now what I was trying to tell you. I just…” He looks around, trying to clear his head, be precise and careful with his words. “This world is shitty, Jemma. That’s a fact. I’m not asking you for resignation. We don’t bode well with meekness and pessimism, and I’m not saying we shouldn’t do anything. But we gotta be smart about this, talk and come with a plan. And, first of all, we gotta make sure that Anthony is doing okay.”

Jemma is wiping tears from her eyes, and Fitz feels his blood boil; he has never been able to keep his cool when one of them cries.

“He is.” She says finally, her voice softer. “After all, he got his good heart from both you and Daisy.” 

“And his endurance from you. Come here.” She falls into his arms and he holds her close, feeling the bubbling frustration oozing out of her, but not the lingering pain. 

“Nurture not nature, eh?” She murmurs against his chest, and Fitz kisses the top of her head.

“You know it.”

* * *

When they go out, Daisy has already taken Anthony to the kitchen in order to help her get dinner started. When they appear on the doorstep, Anthony starts tugging insistently on Daisy’s shirt.

“What, monkey? Oh, right.” She lifts Anthony up till she has him resting on her hip, and carries him towards them until Fitz takes him from her arms. “Guys, there is something Tony here wants to tell you. Want to tell them yourself, buddy? No? Okay.” She smiles at him, but Anthony covers his face with his little hands as his only response. “He wants you to know that he loves you both very much, and that he is really glad that he gets to have a dad and two mums who care for him and love him back.” She takes a step forward and gestures for both Fitz and Jemma to get closer to her mouth, and when they are, she stage-whispers. “And that his fellow kindergarteners are morons, but that is coming from me, not him.”         

“Daisy!” Both of them react the same way, and Daisy bursts out laughing at the identival outrage on their faces; the sound makes Anthony laugh too, and at that point neither him nor Jemma can resist their own. They all beam up at each other when they stop; it feels like it finally has stopped raining after a long, hard winter. 

“Come on, baby.” Jemma motions for Fitz to put Anthony down. She is always going on and on about how Daisy and Fitz are going to atrophiate his legs if they keep on tha tendency of carrying him around all the time She takes his hand in hers and together they walk towards the fridge. “You have to help me make dinner, Anthony. We both know that we are the only capable ones to make something edible in here.” He nods at her, dead serious, and Fitz would feel like protesting in his and Daisy’s behalf, if he wasn’t so busy at having his heart melted by the image. 

He is taken out of his reverie by Daisy touching his arm.

“Did you talk to her, then?”

“Some. We will need to sit down, the three of us, and think up a plan on how are we going to address this kind of issue from now on.”

Daisy nods, her eyes fixed on Jemma and Anthony.

“Aren’t you worried, though?” Her voice is soft, but because of fear and not tenderness, and Fitz closes his arms around her.

“Worried about what?”

“About him suffering for the things we chose and we will choose.”

“To be honest?” He waits till she looks him in the eyes to continue. “No. I know that whatever comes our way, we will make the best of it. Together.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I see that some new folks have suscribed to this collection! Thank you so much, it's appreciated. Now, if there is anything specific wou will like to read about, drop me a line with a prompt either here or at tumblr (@florchis)!


	4. FS taking care of injured Daisy (G)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daisy gets injured after a misison and Jemma freaks out a little. Or a lot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From a tumblr prompt: "Prompt where FitzSimmons is patching up Daisy from a rough mission or whatev with lots of fluff and ends in snuggles and super cute forehead kisses for Daisy????"

Jemma wished this moment would never come, but it was evident that sooner or later it hat to happen and, frankly, maybe it’s for the best that it happened sooner rather than later; she needs to face her fears once and from all.

It’s not that she didn’t care about Daisy before they got together; of course she- they- cared about Daisy- but the phantom of the Pod and the way she wasn’t able to handle Fitz’s medical situation with complicated feelings in the mix still hangs over her head, like a visible sign of her failure, and this time she wants to do better. They lead dangerous lives in a dangerous world, and both Fitz and Daisy need her to be able to act calmly and professionally if they ever find themselves on the situation of needing her to act as their medical doctor.

(And she will always need to act as their medical doctor, since, one, for some reason S.H.I.E.L.D. seems incapable of getting an actual one to stick around for longer than a couple months; and, two, is very unlikely that she will trust their care to someone else, anyway.)

They have been lucky enough to not go through that situation yet; since they got together they have come out of all the missions with more or less just a few scratches. Until, of course, that is not the case anymore.

Her hands are trembling while she rushes through the hallways of the playground, and she can only think of that time Daisy got shot and she was so disturbed that she was unable to even wipe away Daisy’s blood from her hands.  Luckily, and very much like that time, Fitz forestalls her in an intersection and takes his time to hold her for two minutes before they resume their rushing towards the medical wing. 

“How is she?” He asks, panting.

Her first instinct is to say _ Alive, _ but she is very aware of Fitz’s flare for the dramatics, and if she were to say that, his mind would literally add _ and she is very lucky to still be alive. _

“Roughed up, but she will be okay.” She resists the temptation to add _ or so they say  _ under her breath. She’s just a couple minutes away from being sure of it for herself, there is no need to wind herself up for nothing. Fitz just nods and they keep going in silence.

When they get to the med bay and Daisy is not only alive, but awake and sitting up, Jemma lets out the air she hasn’t noticed she was holding inside her chest. Daisy is wearing a short top, both her torso and her face are covered in bruises of different sizes and colors, and don’t even get her started on Daisy’s arms. But bruises will fade and bones will heal, and Jemma will make damn sure that she is getting the rest she needs, and the best care anyone can provide. 

“Hey, guys.” There is a guilty quality to her voice, and now that she knows that Daisy is actually okay, maybe Jemma would like to have a word or two with her about putting her life on the line time and time again, but, well, she never liked hypocrites, and it wouldn’t be fair for her to become one.   

Fitz reacts better and quicker than her, who stands there in the corner, frozen with her mouth hanging open, relief and anger and worry making a paralyzing cocktail on her bloodstream. Instead, Fitz sits down next to Daisy on her bed, places his hand on her thigh, checking her face very closely for any sign of discomfort and then leans over to kiss her forehead. His lips are light and soft like butterflies on Daisy’s skin, and Daisy sighs and closes her eyes, seemingly overwhelmed by the sensation. That image snaps Jemma into movement, and she takes the clipboard at the end of the bed, reads it over and frowns.

“Is she mad at me?” Daisy whispers, and from the corner of her eye, Jemma sees that she has rested her head on Fitz’s shoulder, and he has put his arm around her without touching her, probably just as an unconscious attempt to protect her. 

“No.” She is, she totally is, but her heart melts a little with the tender way Fitz pushes Daisy’s bangs out of her face, and the abandonment on Daisy’s features at his touch. “I mean, probably yes, but nothing out of the ordinary. Mostly, she is just worried her feelings for us might cloud her judgement when she needs them to be clear to provide us with medical attention. And she always wants to do her best, but especially for us.”

She almost gets choked with emotion, they barely exchanged a dozen words on the way here, how can he know exactly the way she is feeling?  She makes sure that her eyes are completely dry before checking the IV and looking closer at what used to be a nasty cut on one of Daisy’s forearms.

“Who sew you up?” It’s good work, carefully done to minimize both pain and scarring, but she can not help thinking that she could have done it better. Probably. Maybe.

“Jemma, come here.” She is about to repeat her question, since Daisy is obviously ignoring it, but both Fitz and Daisy are looking at her with intent eyes, and when they don’t stop, she has to give in and jump on the bed to sit on the other side of Daisy. Her girlfriend points her upper body towards her, and Fitz’s hand touches her waist from behind Daisy’s back. “I’m okay. I’ve been, and probably will be again, through worse. I think you are the best stand-in doctor we got, but that’s not why I called you here.” She makes a pause, looks at both of them with soft eyes. “I am injured, but I don’t need a second medical opinion; instead, I am in dire need of affection, and that’s why I asked for my partners. But, Jemma, I want my girlfriend, not my doctor. Fitz got on board already. Do you think you can handle that?”

She bites her lower lip, watches Daisy snuggling against Fitz’s chest, his arms surrounding her very carefully, his lips kissing softly, incessantly behind her ear.

“I can try.” Her vocation and her training are not a costume she can put on or take off at will; they are who she is, they are the way she experiences life and envisions the future, but this relationship is also about negotiations and finding a healthy middle point where the needs and the desires of everyone involved are met in the best possible way. Daisy is not asking, after all, that Jemma doesn’t worry about her; maybe she just needs to focus her concern from another perspective. 

“I can’t ask for more.” Daisy smiles, and Fitz nods at her encouragingly. “Except that you lay down next to Fitz so I can rest my head on your laps.”

Jemma rolls her eyes good-naturedly, and both her and Fitz arrange themselves the way Daisy asked. 

“You are such a puppy.” She tells Daisy, while Fitz puts his arm behind her shoulders, and Jemma tangles her hand on Daisy’s hair to start massaging her scalp. 

“And you are only realizing this now? Wow. And I thought you were a certified genius.”  


	5. FS bicker over Daisy (G)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daisy: *finger guns* hey, cool beans, how are you?  
> Simmons: *whispers* she’s so cool  
> Fitz: you have such low standards

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From a tumblr prompt by @unlessimwrongwhichyouknowimnot  
> Daisy: *finger guns* hey, cool beans, how are you?  
> Simmons: *whispers* she’s so cool  
> Fitz: you have such low standards

Jemma Simmons wouldn’t consider herself, under any circumstance, a shallow person. But she is a scientist. A scientist with an extensive training in the human body. Therefore, she can not be blamed for being appreciative of the human form. The _ Daisy  _ form in this case.

“If you stare at her any harder, your eyes will bug out of your head.”

She elbows Fitz on the ribs, but doesn’t consider him worthy enough of stopping her staring at the glistening muscles on Daisy’s arms.

“One: We all know we are in the verge of falling into bed all together, and therefore this kind of flirting is more than allowed, it’s actually encouraged.” Fitz rolls his eyes; she is not looking at him, but she _ knows. _ “Two: Aware of point number one, she is showing off, and how can I deny her an audience when _ that  _ is what she got to show off?” She bites her lower lip while Daisy bends down to pick up a towel to dry her face and her shoulders. “Three: I can not be staring any harder than you are while she is teaching you how to program something.”

Fitz splutters, outraged, and Jemma can’t bit down half a smile.

“I’m not, we are not, I mean, I’m not, I would never-, she doesn't teach me!” He finally settles and Jemma would look at him with a raised eyebrow, but again, Daisy is stretching, her right arm behind her ear being a parallel line with her torso, and  _ damn. _ “We do things _ together! _ And excuse me for finding her _ intelligence  _ attractive. I don’t get off on dating meatheads with an IQ lower than their fat percentage!”

That’s a low blow, and he knows it, because his face turns beet red, and his tongue knots itself in the middle of an apology. Jemma raises her hand to stop him.

“That was rude.” He inhales sharply, but she doesn’t give him enough time to forge his reply. “You are just bitter you don’t get to be as cool as she is.”

That is, of course, the moment Daisy chooses to jog to them with a big smile on her face.

“Hey, guys.  _ How you doin’ _ ?” She leans against the wall, her arms crossed over her chest; she is all muscle arms and smile.   

They both wave at her, speechless, until Daisy chuckles and turns around to finish picking everything up. Jemma is drooling so much at the sight of Daisy’s butt and her upper thighs it looks like she is going to choke; Fitz rolls his eyes so hard it’s like they are gonna come out of his skull.

“I can’t believe you have such low standards.” He murmurs to her, careful that Daisy doesn’t over hear it. Jemma gives him a stinky look. 

“Well, maybe you should be grateful, since I am dating _ you! _ ”

“Uncalled for!”


	6. Jemma stops a food fight between Fitz and Daisy (G)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jemma gets home at just the right time to stop Fitz and Daisy making a mess out of their kitchen (but just barely).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From a tumblr prompt by @theclaravoyant: "we were supposed to make fettuccini but you’re a child that likes to start food fights apparently"

If Jemma is being honest, when she enters the kitchen and finds:

  1. Fitz’s face dripping pasta while he splutters, indignant, around a mouthful of sauce;
  2. Daisy pointing at him with a frown on her mouth that indicates she is feeling vindicated;



she almost just turns around to let them solve their own problems. Go back to base and sleep there. Change her identity and start a new life in another country.

Yeah, that doesn’t sound half bad.

But if she doesn’t deal with this now it will be like leaving a bigger problem for Future Jemma to deal with, and while she is of the opinion that Present Jemma deserves a bubble bath and a foot rub, she kind of doesn’t want Future Jemma to have a full meltdown just because Present Jemma is feeling overwhelmed.

“Daisy! Did you just throw a bowl of pasta on his face?” They both turn towards her at the sound of her voice, and while guilt flashes quickly through Daisy’s features- it actually is regret at having been caught, not at what she did, she can not fool Jemma-, Fitz stretches his arms towards her, still blinking furiously through the food dripping down his face.

“He deserved it!,” it’s Daisy’s immediate reply, while she places her hands on her hips in a stance that is so Fitz-like that Jemma can’t help one corner of her mouth ticking up even while she wets a dish towel to help Fitz clean up.

“I did not!” She ignores Fitz’s indignant response while she starts rubbing the cloth carefully down his cheeks and his chin. There is something on his shirt already, and Jemma winces just at the though of how hard it will be to clean it up; she is going to let them deal with that particular mess, her chemistry degree be damned.   

Daisy scoffs at him, and Jemma is somewhat glad that she is cleaning Fitz’s mouth right now, because, judging from the angry, exaggerated hand gestures he is making, this would be a never-ending argument otherwise.

“You did too, Leopold!” Jemma winces at the use of Fitz’s first name; this mean business, then. “What else do you think criticizing my cooking skills was going to get you?”

“I was not complaining about your cooking I was just-”

“Saying that you know better, more efficient ways to do it somewhat implies that I’m doing it wrong!”

They are so engrossed in the argument that they barely notice Jemma- who is tuning out the argument herself- opening up the buttons on Fitz’s shirt and taking it off his shoulders, until she pushes it into Daisy’s hands. That puts a stop to the discussion, because Daisy looks down at her hands, like the shirt just appeared out of thin air, and Fitz looks at his own arms, not understanding exactly what just happened. That’s good, because it gives Jemma enough time to go searching for the broom and shoving it into Fitz’s hands.

“You make the mess, you clean it up.” She tells both of them with a tone of voice that leaves no place for complains. “And since you two ruined our dinner, I’m going to draw myself a bubble bath until the pizza comes here. The first one to finish their task earns themself the right to wash my hair.”

She leaves the room letting them both astounded and speechless, while murmuring to herself, but loud enough for them to hear.

“Children. I’m dating children. I didn’t have enough with one, no, I had to go and get another one. Two children. That’s why I need to have two PhDs, to compensate. One PhD for each child I’m dating.”

She is already taking her blouse off in the living room when she hears Daisy’s voice coming from the kitchen. 

“Um, Fitz? I think we broke Jemma.”   


	7. Daisy comes back in S4 (G)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daisy might not be back for herself, but maybe part of why she is back is because she missed them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From a tumblr prompt by @smallblueandloud: "fitzskimmons during early s4". 
> 
> I might revisit this topic at some point in time, with a god S4 rewatch in my pocket. This is mainly Skimmons for some reason, but there are Fitz mentions aplenty.

She traverses the base on automatic, and only when her hand is hovering over the code panel she realizes that her body has taken her to Fitzsimmons’ bunk instead of her own. Or, well, the bunk that used to be hers. Nothing here is actually hers to claim anymore, except for them.

Maybe.

She hopes.

But even not taking that into account, it’s only understandable that her body took her here; the fingers of one hand would suffice to count the nights she stayed in her own room instead of theirs the months prior to the Hive, um, the Hive _incident._

But Hive happened, among other things, and they were here and she wasn’t, and even though now they are all in the same space and time, there is nothing that allows her to believe that everything will be the same.

They probably don’t want everything to be the same.

She doesn’t deserve everything to be the same.

The truth falls over her like a bucket of iced water, and with tear-filled eyes, she turns around to go hide in her alleged bunk, and while doing so, she finds herself face to face with Simmons.

“Daisy.”

Time and pain and loses hadn’t been exactly kind with any of them, and while she used to find adorable the manic edge of Jemma’s smile when she first met her, now and here, Daisy feels her heart stuttering instead at the soft kindness of it.

“Simmons.”

“Were you going to come in?” she asks, and her tone is neutral. Daisy wonders which is the feeling that she is not letting seep into her words. “You know the code. Not that not knowing the code had stopped you before.”

Again, an ambiguous statement that doesn’t help her determine where they stand.

“Dunno. Thought about dropping by to say hi, but I didn’t want to get yelled at.”

She hasn’t finished saying the words that she makes a grimace. Fuck. It _is_ true, but it doesn’t reflect at all her real feelings: her craving for them is much stronger than her resentment over their reproaches. Simmons looks unimpressed, but takes a step towards her.

“I can’t make any promises, but maybe we could try to take a night off to enjoy being together again before settling the score?”

Jemma takes another step closer and Daisy feels wary of the whole situation- not because she doesn’t trust Jemma, but because being hurt is so damn exhausting-, but at the same time, neither Jemma nor Fitz had ever given her any reasons to distrust them; they might disagree or don’t understand her choices, they might be beyond mad at her, but they would never hurt her on purpose, and she needs to remember that.

But.

But this is Jemma speaking, and since she got to know them better, and particularly since she got involved romantically with both of them, Daisy has tried hard to not act like they are one and the same person: just because Jemma is willing to agree on a truce, it doesn’t mean Fitz is too.

“Um, but will Fitz be okay with that?”

Jemma has the decency to not lie straight to her face, and just blinks her eyes, unsmiling.

“It’s not my place to decide that. We will have to ask him.”

Daisy nods, tight. The perspective is not exactly hopeful, but it doesn’t matter, because she lost all hope already and yet here she is. She might be able to keep moving out of sheer determination only, after all.

“Can I come in?”

Jemma smiles then, and Daisy feels the blood running right back through all her body.

“Always. But first, come here.”

Jemma takes yet another step into her personal space until there is no distance whatsoever between their bodies, and Daisy looks nervously around. She is not ashamed of her girlfriend - does she still have the right to call her that?-, but Jemma is a higher up now, and she doesn't want to compromise her. Jemma doesn't seem to mind who sees them being affectionate though, and just before receiving a kiss craved for tortuous months, Daisy wonders if this display should at least grant them a rainbow lanyard.

The kiss is brief, just a press of Jemma’s cold yet soft lips against hers, but even that is enough to make her entire body tremble. She stands true to her beliefs and the reasons why she left, but is undeniable the yearning on her bones to come back. Jemma is smiling at her, and there are a millions things they need to discuss and settle, a million amends her and Fitz need to make, but for a moment, Daisy allows herself the luxury of remembering that she left for herself, and while she doesn’t want to come back for herself yet, she can- and does- want to come back for them.


	8. Daisy has a panic attack (S4) (G)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Daisy has a panic attack after coming back, Fitz and Simmons are there to comfort her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From tso tumblr prompts: “You’re far to skinny” + “I thought you stopped having these…”
> 
> Rated G. Set in S4. Platonic, pre-romantic Fitzskimmons. Mentions canon Static Quake and midly depicts a panic attack.

It starts on a hallway, and is triggered by the most inane of things: a dark nook that she used to hide in to make out with Lincoln.

(There is such thing as an inane trigger, though?)

Her memories with him are numbered, and maybe that’s why she can recall each one with chilling precision, and just the sight of the nook in the corner of her eye makes her feel his exploring hand under her t-shirt and the prickly feeling of his beard on her skin.

Her chest tightens as a form of defense and her head immediately starts aching from the lack of oxygen- _how much more terrible that must have been for Lincoln, his lungs burning from lack of oxygen and-_ , and Daisy knows that if she doesn’t get her body under control soon she will be on absolutely vulnerable at the disposal of whoever finds her, in this place full of hostiles.

It’s not, by any means, the first one she has had in her life, but it’s the first one she has had since she came back, and it shakes her up badly. She freaks out, because she is _trapped_ here, in an _underground_ base, full of people that doesn’t _trust_ her, and her powers haven’t been volatile in a while, but how can she trust her reign over them when she can not trust her ability to suck in oxygen without choking?

Later, she will tell herself that it was just her sense of self-preservation that made her go through the first familiar door she found, but she knows that her body was taking her instinctively towards her beacon of light in a sea of darkness.

“Daisy! Daisy, are you okay?” Jemma’s voice comes to her ears muffled, like she is underwater, and isn’t that ironic.

Daisy stretches a hand towards her, and tries to reply, to tell her that she is, indeed, not okay, but when she opens her mouth only a choked gasp comes out while she stumbles towards Jemma’s distressed face. She miscalculates when she tries to use the lab counter as support, and her hand slips and slips and slips, and she is falling for around a million years until an arm catches her around the waist and keeps her from crashing against the floor.

Fitz’s scent is so comforting on her nose that her eyes water, or it might as well just be another blow of panic. Immediately after, a bout of nausea overcomes her, and she moves away from him as fast as possible, which is not much with the way her head is spinning.

“Daisy.” There is a quality onJemma’s voice that has the ability to break through the fog in her head, and Daisy follows the direction of the sound; she can’t focus her eyes, not really, but the silhouette of Jemma’s features is somewhat comforting. “Babe, you are having a panic attack. I know it’s hard, but you need to breathe. You think you can do that for me?”

She doesn’t manage a nod, and settles instead for a vague hand gesture; Jemma seems to take it as the affirmation it was meant to be.

“Good, that’s good. Nothing is going to happen to you here.” That feels like a way too bold affirmation, Daisy believes, but right now she doesn’t have the willpower to tell Jemma otherwise, “You are safe. Just focus on breathing. Follow my lead, okay?”

Daisy has been through a lot of breathing exercises and techniques in her life: with some foster parents that at first tried the more zen approach to her rebelliousness; with a yoga girlfriend she had once; with May; with Andrew; even with Lincoln- _don’t go there, don’t go there, don’t go there._ But there is something about the gravitas and the steadiness of Jemma’s voice that makes the instructions easy to follow, and after a couple iterations of _In, one, two, three, four, out, one, two, three, four_ , she wouldn’t say that she feels completely okay, but at least the pressure on her chest subsides, and the nausea goes down her throat again.

She even manages a shaky, whispered, _thanks,_ and apparently encouraged by her good development, Fitz places a light hand on her lower back.

“Do you want us to take you someplace else?” His voice is soft, unassuming, and it makes the worst tension of the panic break, and her body sags with exhaustion. The memory of how the aftermath feels never truly goes away, but it’s still upsetting just how damn tired and pained these episodes can leave her.

“Yes, please.” Her voice is hoarse and weak, but she got the two words out, and that is a lot. Jemma smiles at her encouragingly, and Fitz drapes his entire arm across her waist.

“Do you think you can walk?” She flexes and stretches her knees a couple times, testing her muscles. A yes doesn’t really feel like an honest reply, but does she have any other option? Fitz’s hand rubbing slow circles on her back is a sea of warmth on her sore body, and she wishes he could just gently rub away all her worries and her fears and also her aching heart. “I can carry you if you prefer.”

She pictures herself being carried by Fitz bridal-style through the base, and a sound close to a snort comes out of her mouth. Though she can not see his face, based on Jemma’s smile she can imagine that he is feigning indignation.

“I don’t wanna discredit your strength,” her voice sounds as tired as she feels, but she manages a hint of amusement, and that helps her carry on, “but I’d rather trust my own legs if you don’t mind.”

Fitz squeezes slightly her hip as a silent acceptance at the exact same time that Jemma places her hand on Daisy’s knee, and they are small things, but she feels blanketed and safe in between them; she can be strong knowing that they will be there to help her if she falters.

* * *

When she wakes up, she doesn’t remember going to their bedroom despite having been conscient enough to go walking on her own- if having both Simmons’s arm around her waist and Fitz’s hand holding her tight can be called “on her own”. It’s disorienting at first, but the confusion is immediately soothed by their combined scent on their sheets, Jemma’s floral shampoo and Fitz’s minted after-shave. She is not strong enough yet to can afford feeling embarrassed, so instead she allows herself to close her eyes for a second longer and bask on the comfort of both the bed and her friends’ care.

She feels the bed dipping when someone sits by her side, and she can tell it’s Simmons based on her breathing pattern alone. There might have been a rift between them for awhile, but it’s amazing how much memory can hold onto what once was a source of comfort.

“How are you feeling, Daisy?” She is using her ‘medical professional’ tone of voice, and Daisy opens one eye to glare at her.

“I’m not your patient, Simmons.”

She is not sure where the coldness in her voice comes from; she doesn’t like feeling patronized, but in this case she knows it comes from genuine concern. To her surprise, Simmons doesn’t lash out back, but instead concedes.

“You are right. I’m sorry. I am just worried about you.” She makes a pause, and though Daisy has closed back her eyes, she can imagine Jemma biting her lower lip in worry. “I thought you stopped having panic attacks.”

She remembers the variety of panic attacks Fitz and Simmons have traversed with her: after she got shot, after she got her powers, after the incident with her mother, after the incident with Hive.

(There have been way too many _incidents_ in her life, haven’t they?)

It hurts a little, to think that Simmons believes her capable of going through all she have been through and come out on the other side unscathed, but she knows that the statement is more of a wistful nature than a factual one. But since she doesn’t want to talk about it- she knows she should, but the moment has not come yet-, she deflects the attention.

“Where is Fitz?”

Simmons smiles, that soft smile that is one of the dozen Daisy knows she makes only when she thinks about him, and her heart flutters in her chest. It might have been too painful for her, a couple weeks back, to witness love like that, but right now it just makes her feel softly comforted, and that is not nothing.

“Cooking up a storm, of course.” She leans on the bed a little, and Daisy scoots closer to her, almost placing her head on Jemma’s lap. “He thinks you are far too skinny for your own good.”

She nuzzles Jemma’s leg, and Jemma places a hand on the top of her head, carding gently through her hair. What a good thing to have people who can understand her requests for affection without her having to explicitly ask for it.

“You know, saving the world doesn’t leave much free time for elaborate cooking.” She could add ‘or for plain ol’ eating’, but she’d rather go with the light version of the statement.

Instead of giving her a scolding, Jemma massages firmly a sinful spot behind her ear, and Daisy moans.

“We know.” Her voice is gentle, and Daisy thinks that she could get used to this level of comfort and intimacy. “I’m sorry about before, but I promise that we will always be here to take care of you from now on.”

She could tell Jemma that she shouldn’t make promises that she won’t be able to keep, but knowing that they _want_ to keep them is, in a way, enough.

“Tell me that this storm includes his renowned french toast.”

Jemma squeezes her shoulder gently, and Daisy has not fully stopped suffering through memories and guilt, but now she is remembering that she has an anchor she can hold on to if she decides to stretch her hand.

“What kind of Fitz’s breakfast would it be if it didn’t?”          


	9. S5 AU- Cuddling (G)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> S5 AU- Daisy goes to check on Fitz and succumbs to a simple request.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From two tumblr prompts: "Come cuddle" + "Fitz survives but is injured and the girls cuddle him in bed". 
> 
> This is an AU version of 5b (get used to that), where things went a little south between the Bus Kids but not nearly as bad as in canon (some disagreements let's say), and also Fitz doesn't die at the end. Stablished Fitzskimmons, warning for some swearing.

She knocks on their door once, and when after a minute or two there is no response from the other side, she sighs and knocks again, this time using the special pattern that ever since the Bus they all use with each other.

She is not gonna lie: it’s a little reassuring that they don’t even bother replying when it could be anyone else, but now that they know it’s her, Jemma hastens to the door. It’s reassuring that, despite everything that has happened, there are things that aren’t completely broken yet.

“Daisy.”

Jemma looks disheveled and tired, like she could use a good night of sleep or a thousand. Daisy has seen that same look on Jemma’s face and on her own countless times, and it is a new experience to see the wariness on Jemma and while not feeling it herself, even if the cause is the Gravitonium running through her veins. That is probably not a thing to be grateful for, but still, she gotta take whichever pros she can take out of it. Still, the heart and the body are not always in the same page, and just because she feels blasts of pure energy coursing through her blood, it doesn’t mean that she is not tying herself in knots in worry for Fitz.

“How is he doing?”

Instead of replying Jemma opens the door completely.

“Come in, come in. He’s awake. I couldn’t convince him to go to sleep.”  

“Why not?” She frowns; an entire building almost fell on him, what could possibly keep him from going to sleep?

(It might be a slight exaggeration, especially considering the kind of risk she puts herself in daily without a second thought, but still. She worries about him, about both of them.)

One of the corners of Jemma’s mouth ticks up, and Daisy’s heart beats faster; even that small smile makes her look more her age and oh, so beautiful.

_Johnson, you are so weak._

“He was worried about you.”

Daisy gapes at her, and Jemma shrugs.

“I told him that your vitals were much better than his, actually, but he wanted to see you with his own two eyes before sleeping, or so he says.”

Daisy stops on his tracks, still not in the bedroom itself.

“Then why didn’t you come to get me? I would have come right away if I knew.”

(It’s true that she waited to check on Coulson, and to offer Mack any help he could need, and to check that everyone was doing more or less okay at least three times, before coming here. There were- there _are-_ a lot of things that needed to be done, that’s a fact, but she refrained acting on her desire to visit until it couldn’t be denied any longer, until she needed to check on _them_ to keep functioning.)

Jemma flushes.

“Oh, well, you had things to do and, um, I didn’t want to, um, inconvenience you,” is what she says. What she means is _I know this relationship it’s not in its finest hour, and I couldn’t bear the idea of you rejecting us, so I’d rather not ask._

“Jemma.” It’s like her name opens up a dam, and the tired but professional facade falls. Her face crumbles, and Daisy is quickly by her side to hold her up. It’s been a while since they have held each other like this, and Daisy hates that it only happens under less-than-ideal circumstances, and yet it’s heartwarming to know that despite everything they still can find comfort in each other.

She holds Jemma tight by her waist, stroking her hair with her other hand. It’s always a little disorientating, to realize how small she actually is, something that goes unnoticed with the way she usually irradiates authority. When in her arms, she is barely over a hundred pounds of soft hair and trembling bones, and despite everything that has happened between them, Daisy would do everything in her power to keep her safe.

She lets Jemma calm down on her own, tears soaking her shoulder, just holding her, and when Jemma finally pulls away, Daisy wipes out a tear with her thumb. Jemma bites her lower lip, looking down at her hand, and Daisy waits, face neutral, to see what is going on inside her head. Slowly, Jemma takes Daisy’s hand in between hers and gives the tiniest kiss to the tip of her thumb. Heat radiates from that point of contact, and by the time her lips are tingling with the feeling, she leans over and kisses Jemma on the lips; it’s a dry, chaste peck, but it’s been way too enough since they have last kissed, and this is both a promise and a guarantee.

“Let’s go see our injured boy, shall we?”

Jemma nods and interlaces their fingers. Daisy looks down at their hands while they get inside the room and can’t help but smile. Fitz is dozing off half-sitting on the bed, drooling slightly over his pillow, and just when Daisy is about to say that she will come back later to speak to him, he opens his eyes.

Now, here is the thing: she is well aware of her feelings for them and also of the issues that have arisen between them along the way. But watching him opening his eyes- glazed and sleepy, but still that cerulean deep blue that could never not remind her of him-, after fearing that they might have lost him forever, feels like her soul slowly re-entering her body through her mouth while she gasps.

“Daisy day!” His voice has a singsong quality to it, but he also sounds groggy, and when he tries to sit up, he pulls a face, like something is hurting him. Jemma rushes to his side.

“Fitz! You will pull your stitches!”

“I just wanted to say hello to Daisy.” He pouts at Jemma, unabashedly _pouts,_ and Daisy could literally eat his face off. Jemma, hardened from years of not letting him eat his weight in sugar in one sitting, just scoffs.

“Take it easy, buddy, I’m not going anywhere.”

She sits on the bed, opposite Jemma, and immediately he leans towards her, burying his nose in her leather jacket, even while Jemma still checks up his injuries. Her arms go around him without her even thinking about it.   

“Good. I missed you.”

She looks at Jemma, a little lost, but her confusion is only met with a smile. She can imagine that he is high on painkillers and that it has lowered his inhibitions a bunch, but that doesn’t mean that he doesn’t feel what he is saying, right?

She hesitates for a second, but fuck it, if just a moment ago Jemma felt safe enough to be vulnerable with her, the way he is draping himself over her makes her feel like she can be vulnerable, and _fuck, fuck, fuck,_ they came so close to losing each other today, and isn’t that an eye-opening experience, and what if both of them had died today, leaving Jemma alone? The thought itself is enough to make her want to weep her eyes dry on him, but this is not the moment, the feelings are heated hot from all their last experiences, and this is a conversation they need to have with all their bodies and their minds cold.

Instead of pouring her heart out to him, or even to Jemma, who is contemplating her with serious eyes, she pats down his curls, short-cropped but still messy from the sweat and all the laying in bed, and places a kiss on the top of his head.    

“Jemma told me you wanted to see me.”

He opens his eyes, her voice bringing him back again from his slumber.  

“Yes! I was waiting for you to come cuddle.”

That is… not what she was expecting. She has always been all for the physical intimacy, but it’s been a while, and she hardened herself against the need for it. But maybe coming to the verge of death once again is the right place to start making amends, right?

She checks with Jemma with questioning eyes; the bed is barely big enough to house the three of them, and she doesn’t want to put any unnecessary strain on his injuries. Besides, she is still a little nervous about the full, long-term impact of her new, amplified powers. Jemma sighs, but offers her a short nod.

She moves apart a little to take off her jacket and her shoes. She is not a big fan of laying in her clothes on their bed, but if she stays over the covers they should be fine.

“Do you want to be the big spoon or the little one?”

It takes him a second to reply, because he is again fighting to keep his eyelids open, and he tugs on Jemma’s piyama sleeve before replying “Both.”

Jemma rolls her eyes, but Daisy sees on her trembling lips that she could not be happier to have them both here. She turns off the room’s lights, and letting just the bedside lamp on, she slips under the covers by his side. Fitz immediately drapes him against her back while Daisy spoons his back over the covers, an arm protectively over his waist and with his hand barely touching Jemma’s elbow.

“Do you think you can sleep now, buddy?”

She doesn’t get any reply from him except for a light snoring, but Jemma squeezes lightly on two of her fingers.

“I guess he really just needed this.” It’s embarrassing for her to say it, but it is easier with the lights dimmed and with her and Jemma not being face to face.  

Jemma takes a long time to reply, long enough for Daisy to think that maybe she already fell asleep too.

“I think we all needed this.”


	10. Domestic Fluff (G)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jemma comes back home after two weeks.

“I come bearing gifts!” Jemma sing-songs while she opens the door to their flat, and her playful opener is met with silence.

She wasn’t expecting anything grand, but for none of her partners nor their child to come out at the sound of her voice? That is strange. She takes off her shoes and her coat and leaves the carry-on and her bags near the door. It’s not supposed to be Anthony’s nap time, and that’s why she didn’t give a second thought about entering the flat with so much noise, but well, she _does_ have been gone for two weeks, and maybe things have changed? Something churns in her stomach at the idea, but that’s life, right? She can’t expect things to not change just because it breaks her heart to think about missing something, _anything_ about their son’s life.

She has felt like floating all her flight back home, despite being literally flying, and now her feet are made of stone while she carefully approaches their bedroom.

Just when she is about to open the door, Fitz comes out of the room, and immediately draws her into a long hug. She takes a deep breath, her nose buried in the crook of his neck, and he smells like sweat and his shampoo and the vague smell of home that the three of them share, that comes from their laundry detergent. That is enough to ground her, tether her again to the happiness of being back home, let her anxiety and her guilt start to uncoil.

“Hey. Sorry we weren’t waiting for you.”

Jemma shakes her head but says nothing, too busy drinking him in. His gaze is loving and his hands firm on her hips, but there are bags under his eyes, and he looks utterly tired.

“Don’t worry about it.” She frowns. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, just the knicks and knacks of having an eight-month-old who is teething, you know the drill.”

She does know the drill, but they told her time and time again that everything was just peachy during the Skype sessions Jemma was able to sneak here or there.  

“You look like you haven’t been sleeping at all since I left.”

Fitz drops his eyes, and Jemma takes a step forward, their noses almost touching, and with her breath grazing his cheeks, he relaxes a little. They stand like this for a couple seconds, just relishing on the presence of each other, and finally, he replies without further prompting.

“Well, that’s because I haven’t been.”

She tries to keep the resentment out of her voice because they are just getting reacquainted with each other, but it’s hard to not demand that they should have been truthful with her.

“Something out of the ordinary happened?”

Fitz looks at her, silent for a couple of seconds, and finally opens the door of the bedroom so Jemma can peer inside.

“Better that you see it for yourself.”

Daisy is lying in their king-sized bed, fast asleep, with Anthony tightly wrapped up in her arms, and if Fitz hasn’t instructed her to keep her voice down, it can only be because they are both even more exhausted than she could imagine.

She enters the room as careful as possible and sits at the foot of the bed, drinking them both in, Daisy’s hair in utter disarray, Anthony’s tiny hand holding onto her shirt. Fitz has walked in behind her, and when he stands next to her, his hand on her shoulder is that she notices that the shirt Daisy is wearing is hers.

She raises her head to look at Fitz, a question in her eyes, and as usual, he seems to understand her without the need for words, because in a careful whisper, he says, “Each day, it would be harder to get him to sleep. And since yesterday, we couldn’t get him to sleep at all. Nothing worked, and we were going out of our minds. But then we realized that we were missing you like crazy, so why wouldn’t he be missing you too? Daisy got in your clothes and put on your cologne, and that was the only way we got him to settle down.”

Tears fill her eyes, but she refuses to let them out. She can’t, though, keep her voice from sounding choked up, “Why aren’t you sleeping too now?”

Fitz places a soft kiss on the top of her head, and Jemma allows herself to tremble.

“I was waiting for you.”

Of course, she missed them dearly while she was away, and she wants them to be able to function without her here, but it is still comforting to know that they still felt her absence like a missing piece.

She pulls him close and starts unbuttoning his shirt.

“Well, now you don’t have to wait anymore.”

Together, they take their clothes off until they are both down to their underwear, and holding hands, they settle on the bed, Fitz spooning Daisy and Jemma cradling Anthony between her arms. The baby yawns and stirs, but doesn’t wake up; Daisy, instead, opens up a sleepy eye to find Fitz’s hand on her hip and Jemma’s on her own.

“Hey, babe. You are back home.”

Jemma smiles at her and strokes her cheek.

“That I am.”   

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have noticed some new subscriptions in this story. To you all, welcome, hope you find something you like, and if you want to read about something in particular, I take prompts both here and in my Tumblr (@florchis).


	11. Who gets to sit in who’s lap (G)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since Tumblr is going crashing down, I'm saving here even my tiny drabbles.

“This is so unfair.”

Daisy licks her spoon before replying, “Waddaya mean?” 

Fitz, still too sleepy to properly function, only mumbles in reply to Jemma’s complaint. 

“I came up here really looking forward to having breakfast while sitting on someone’s lap. And now I can’t. Because you are sitting on Fitz’s lap.”

And then she has the audacity to  _pout_. Daisy looks at her in disbelief.

“Do you realize that the true unfairness is that you are the one who regularly gets to sit on our laps, either mine or his, while we don’t usually sit on yours?” Jemma’s pout hasn’t receded, and Daisy tsks at her while rounding Fitz’s waist with an arm. “That is some nerve, missy. Let the man and I enjoy some time together too.”

“Do you realize that the true unfairness is that I don’t get to sit on anyone’s lap?” Fitz still has his eyes closed, and with his neck stretched up like that, Daisy can only think about marking his throat.

“Hey, you could totally sit on my lap. You are not that heavy. I can take it.”

That makes him open his eyes, if only to glare at her. Daisy takes the chance to lean over and peck him on the lips.

“Don’t forget that he makes pushups now, Daisy. In the double digits. That might not be so true anymore.”

Jemma is carding a hand through his curls gently, but winks at her, and Daisy puts a hand over her mouth to stifle a laugh.

“Stop quipping at my expense and come sit here.” He places an arm around Daisy’s waist to steady her and opens more his legs, palming his free knee as an invitation while Daisy relocates her feet on the ground.   

Jemma looks at Daisy, inquiringly, and Daisy shrugs. If Fitz thinks he can pull it off, they gotta let him have a shot. Jemma places her cup back on the table and very carefully, sits over Fitz’s other leg. It’s… not as uncomfortable as Daisy would have predicted, even if a little silly, since it deprives sitting on someone’s lap of all its inherent grinding fun.  

On the pros list, she is close enough to kiss either of them.  

“This makes me feel like a sugar daddy or something.”

As soon as he is done saying it, they all make a grimace.

“Please, never use that term ever again.”

“Agreed.”


	12. "Can we keep him?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since Tumblr is going crashing down, I'm saving here even my tiny drabbles.

It’s not that she is taking this lightly, not at all. Actually, she doesn’t think it goes much more not-light than giving birth, but Fitz is bawling his eyes out at the end of her bed, and Jemma is trembling while she lays side by side with daisy, holding Anthony in her arms, and this should be a happy moment for them, and, really, she can not help herself.

She tickles Anthony’s nose lightly with the pad of a finger, and he makes a grimace that already is _so Fitz,_  and Daisy feels her chest collapsing, so instead of also herself breaking into tears, she says, “I think he is cute, can we keep him?”

Fitz raises his head so fast that it gives him whiplash, and he can not tell her off, he is stammering that badly. Jemma, instead, snuggles Anthony closer against her chest, looking outraged.

“Daisy! He is our child! Of course we are keeping him!”

“Jeez, guys, no need to get so serious! You were both going through such trascendental moments, I wanted to lighten the mood.” She stretches her arms towards Jemma who- a little reluctantly, Daisy may add- places the baby back in her arms. “I just spat this monkey out of my body, I better love him.”

“Daisy!”

**Author's Note:**

> This story is part of LLF Comment Project, whose goal is to improve communication between readers and authors. This author invites:
> 
> Feedback
> 
>   * Short comments
>   * Long comments
>   * Questions
>   * “<3” as extra kudos
>   * Reader-reader interaction
>   * This author replies to comments.
> 



End file.
